Misunderstood
by lannistersdebt
Summary: Thestrals have a reputation for being misunderstood, but as a couple people discover, that doesn't mean the reputation is deserved. Written for Round 4 of Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.


"Well, Bagheera, you've certainly grown a little taller since I saw you last week." The young man smiled slightly as he knelt down, turning his torso slightly as he did so in order to reach into the bag at his side. He pulled two large chunks of raw meat from within it, seeming not to mind what he was touching, and set them down on the ground. He glanced up just before straightening and then, when he was at his full height, he took a step back. "All yours."

The thestral snorted slightly but stepped forward without hesitation. He was accustomed to the human, whose name he knew was Draco, and looked forward to these visits. Since he was a yearling, he had come to this particular clearing, close to the edge of the lake but not so near it that many students ventured there. Professors, evidently, did not share their charges wariness of the dark shadows and the beings that lived among them, for the blond man had not hesitated in the least the first day he wandered up and discovered Bagheera. Generally, the thestral wanted to be alone. He cared little for the rest of the herd, although he did return to their ranks often enough to have a spot in the hierarchy. Draco, however, had intrigued him, and he found himself allowing the man to visit him without complaint.

"I've seen a few others from the herd the past couple days when I tried to come down here. They're not quite as friendly as you are; they weren't terribly nasty, but they let me know in no uncertain terms that they wanted the food I was bringing to you. I didn't want to show up and leave you disappointed." Draco was leaning against a tree trunk by then; the thestral could feel eyes on him as he ripped into the meat. "Then again, I think I disappoint you half the time anyway."

Uncertain how best to respond to that, he stamped his hoof.

* * *

The first day that the girl showed up, Bagheera was anxious. She made Draco nervous, and he couldn't work out whether it was a good sort or not, which bothered him. Her presence was unexpected. That much he _could_ tell. Draco had been standing close to him, petting his shoulder, when they both heard a twig snap. Draco's hand stilled as the thestral sniffed the air, muscles tense. In this forest, there was no telling what was standing around.

 _Human_.

She was pretty but not overly so, from what he could work out from the other girls that he'd glimpsed. Based on the nervousness he could feel radiating off of both Draco and the girl herself, though, he could only surmise that they found each other attractive.

"Do you really need to do that, Granger?" Draco kept his hand on Bagheera's shoulder, but his words were clearly meant for the girl. _Granger_. Strange name for a girl.

"Do I really need to do what, exactly, Malfoy?"

"You've got your wand out, and your arm posed like you're ready to attack. So. Do you really need to do that?"

Her cheeks turned pink and she mumbled something too quietly for anyone else's ears, but she slipped her wand back into her pocket. As she did, her right sleeve rode up arm slightly, and on her inner wrist was a mark. Bagheera twisted his head, wondering what it was. It seemed to be some sort of symbol.

"Better now?" She was talking to Draco, but her eyes were looking more toward Bagheera. He lowered his neck with an audible sigh, keeping his eyes on her. "What are you even doing out here?"

"Just visiting with a friend." He patted Bagheera then, relaxing as well. "You?"

"Looking for you." She folded her arms meekly. "Snape asked me to come find you. I saw you slip off past Hagrid's house earlier. Apparently, You-Know-Who requests that you come to him at once, along with Snape."

The change in the air made Bagheera curious; the tension was thick. Draco tugged lightly on a strand of his mane before slipping off with the girl, and even though the thestral knew that human affairs ought to be none of his concern, he couldn't help but hope that his friend would return.

* * *

Several weeks went by before the girl came back, but Draco mentioned her name often. He'd told Bagheera that after the day she'd come upon them and related the message summoning Draco, she'd become closer to him. Evidently she hated the way she was forced to act, having to pretend to hate herself while she was in the company of the Death Eaters. Bagheera could sense, while Draco spoke, that be cared deeply for the girl.

"I've told her she should come down to see you, but I think she's frightened of you." He cleared his throat. "I think most people who can see you are. Your breed is a bit intimidating, I'll admit."

"I will too." The girl - Hermione, he'd learned, _not_ Granger - stepped into the clearing from behind a tree, robes drawn tightly around her. It was cold, though the humans would probably say it was frigid; he was surprised to see anyone but Draco venture outside. Then again, without Draco in the castle, it sounded as though life were better for Hermione out in the cold. "They've got a brilliant sense of direction though."

"Oh yes, definitely. The herd seems to be able to find me no matter where I go, yet I can't find them if I look for any of them."

Bagheera flicked his tail, amused.

"That's because they can smell the meat you bring with you." Hermione smiled faintly as she rubbed her arms. "Is it alright if I start a fire?"

Bagheera sighed softly and walked away from the pair, uninterested in their methods of making themselves comfortable. He was hungry and Draco hadn't set out his food yet; leaving for a few minutes would ensure that it was there when he came back. Bagheera lifted his head to sniff at the air. The rest of the herd appeared to be eating, which meant that Hagrid had come to feed them, so at least he wouldn't have to worry about running anyone off.

He returned to his clearing a short time later, just as he'd planned, delighted to see food sitting out for him. There was more than usual today, and as he neared it, he could smell Hermione. He glanced toward her and nickered. She smiled behind a jar that held fire in it and he tilted his head, keeping his eyes on her as he ate. Her cheeks had track marks running down them, fresh and unfrozen because of the heat from her jar.

"You're right. He's not so bad." She let her eyes wander over the skeletal figure. "Do you know how old he is?"

"No. Hagrid probably does."

They were quiet after that. Bagheera glanced up in between bites as if to check that they were still there. He was surprised Draco hadn't asked why Hermione wanted to know his age. He knew the reason - she was wondering whether he could have possibly been among the thestrals that had taken part in the flight to the Ministry of Magic years earlier. He had been born only a few weeks before that, so it had been impossible, but he remembered watching the group leave.

"Draco?" Her voice was soft. "Have you always been able to see them?"

Bagheera took the last bite of food, his fangs flashing, and flicked an ear as he listened for an answer. It came, but only after another bout of silence.

"No." He sounded weary. "I knew about them, but I couldn't see them until the night on the Astronomy Tower."

"I couldn't see them until after Harry." She started crying again then. Bagheera looked toward Draco, who'd slipped his arm around her left side and had taken the jar of fire, and he stepped forward. Hermione didn't glance up until he was right before her, his breath hitting her knees in tiny hot bursts. She attempted a smile and ran a hand down the front of his face. "Why am I crying? I'm so sick of crying."

There was nothing to be said in response to that, so the group was silent, but as Hermione reached up to wipe her face the sleeve on her right arm came loose. Together, she and Bagheera drew a deep breath, she in response to the cold and he in response to the mark on her wrist, the mark he'd noticed the first time he saw Hermione. Then he hadn't known what it meant. Now he recognized it as a brand, and he was glad he could not cry, for if he were able to, Hermione's tears would not be alone on the forest floor.

* * *

 _ **author's note;**_

This was written for Round 4 of the Quidditch League.  
I write as Beater 1 for the Montrose Magpies.  
For this round, we were required to write as different creatures - and from their point of view.  
I chose thestral.  
My additional prompts were:  
\- 8. (dialogue) "Why am I crying? I'm so sick of crying."  
\- 11. (dialogue) "Do you really need to do that?"  
\- 14. (word) frigid

 _Many thanks go to Firefly for listening to me, helping me, and being my beta._


End file.
